


Lazy Winter Sunday

by Deifire



Series: Eerie Advent Calendar Challenge [7]
Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5368577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deifire/pseuds/Deifire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a lazy winter Sunday at the Teller house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Winter Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Eerie Advent Calendar fic challenge.
> 
> Prompt: Hoarfrost.

A frost-covered world is a beautiful thing to wake up to when you don’t have anywhere to be, Marilyn Teller thinks. She wipes at a patch of window glass with the sleeve of her robe, then stands, hot mug of coffee in hand, looking out at the Eerie winter landscape. Just as Weatherman Wally forecasted, everything--houses, trees, grass, cars, and telephone poles--has turned white and sparkling.

She hears Edgar’s slipper-clad footsteps behind her even before she feels his arms wrap around her waist and his lips on her cheek.

“’Morning,” he says sleepily.

“Morning, dear,” she says. She twists partially around and reaches up to kiss him, accomplishing both moves without spilling her coffee, then settles back into his arms. The two of them stand together for a long, lovely moment before Marilyn sighs. “I suppose I should—" she begins, thinking of all the indoor chores she needs to do.

There’s a sudden clatter, which can only be the noise of her teenage daughter running down the stairs.

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” Syndi says when she gets to the bottom. “A bunch of us are going ice skating and then over to Diane’s later. Don’t wait up!”

“Have fun, honey!” Edgar manages to get out before she’s out the door.

Marilyn smiles. She’s about to mention the chores again, when the doorbell rings.

“I’ve got it!” calls a voice from the kitchen, and this time it’s her thirteen-year-old son running to the door.

“Hi, Simon,” Marshall says when he gets there. “Are you ready?”

A small figure wrapped in several layers clothing walks in and unwinds a giant, multicolored scarf from the lower half of its face. “To go on a mission to free the anthropomorphic personification of winter from the Eerie powers-that-be who’ve kidnapped him to do their nefarious bidding? I was born ready!”

Marilyn looks at Edgar, who she finds is giving her an equally puzzled look. They’ve always encouraged Marshall’s, and now Simon’s, imagination, even when it means there are times they find themselves at a loss trying to understand a conversation. They exchange mutual shrugs.

Marshall, meanwhile, is putting on his boots and winter coat. “Simon and I are going out!” he calls in their direction.

“Okay, boys, have fun!” Marilyn says. And then, because she feels something else might be called for, but can’t think of what it might be, “Stay warm!”

“We will, Mrs. Teller!” Simon calls back, before the two rush out the door.

As it slams behind them, Marilyn glances back at Edgar, who raises an eyebrow.

It’s a peaceful, frozen, lazy Sunday, and they’ve suddenly got the whole house to themselves.

She decides the chores can wait.


End file.
